They know my name here. Which is a bit strange. And I must admit that this slight offense wants to arise when I walk in the door and someone is enjoying their cup of coffee and cinnamon crunch bagel in my seat. What is that?!
It's like when I go to the gym and use the same exact locker, #23. My name is not on it, I don't even use a lock, but it just feels like my bag belongs there. And when another person's sneakers sit smelly inside, the world seems all wrong.
People are funny. We like things how we know things. We like to live under the illusion that we hold circumstance in our hands, under our seeming-control. We want change to be our big idea.
But when it's not... When familiarity flees and we find our feet standing on foreign ground, where we cannot speak the language or even understand the dress code, anxiety rears it ugly head. It is in these moments that the only place of peace exists at the feet of the One familiar with every situation.
Nothing is outside of His land. Nothing sends Him running with questions. He is perfectly familiar.
I prep myself before clocking in at "my office." I have this conversation with God about my booth, "Lord, You know I love it. Would you?" Most times He saves it. But when He doesn't I have learned to trust His plan, even in the mundane of my sitting down.
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